Warlock and Son (22 page)

"After him! He must not run free to spread his heresies and blasphemies!" The peasants jumped and headed for the forestsomewhat reluctantly, if the truth be known. Then the hounds and the mob caught up with them, and they shouted with renewed bravery and plunged into the brush.

By that time, of course, Rod was coming out onto the trail and moving fast.
Magnus,
he thought.
Where
are you?

An image appeared in his mind, a picture of a hilltop with only a few small trees on it, and the forest spread out just below his feet. Rod concentrated on the image, thought of being there, and the trail about him grew dim as the hilltop grew more and more clear, taking on bulk and substance.... Then it was real and all about him, and his ears rang with a double boom-the implosion of air rushing into the space his body had just vacated on the trail, and the explosion as he appeared on the hilltop, forcing air suddenly back. He looked about, feeling his knees trying to go weak, and leaned on his staff. He found himself gazing at Roble, who stared at him, crossing himself.

"It's all right," Rod said softly. "I'm only human, though I am what you call a warlock."

"I have explained it, my father, and told them how our powers have naught to do with Satan, nor with miracles, but are only the talents we were born with," Magnus said right behind him. Rod turned and looked up. "Did they believe you?" Magnus shrugged. "With their minds, yes." Rod smiled and turned to the young lovers. "He brought you up here one by one, the way I just came?" Hester nodded, huge-eyed and huddled in the arms of Neil, who wasn't looking any too sanguine himself. "Good thing he did," Rod said. "They've called out the posse, and the dogs." The young couple listened to the baying borne on the night breeze, and shuddered.

"There is no cause for fear," Magnus said softly. "They could not possibly track us here, for there is no trail for them to find."

"That is one of the advantages of travel by thought," Rod agreed, "though it has its disadvantages, too."

"I have talked with them at length," Magnus said, "explaining that we are neither angels nor demons, but I am not sure they wholly believe me."

"I do," Roble croaked, "for even in our benighted village, we have heard tales of such folk as thee. Yet we thought that such a one had made a pact with the Devil."

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Rod shook his head. "No, only with the King and Queen. You've heard of them, I take it?"

"Aye," said Neil, and Hester added, "though we know not their names."

"Catharine and Tuan, as it happens, and I'm their liegeman, Rod Gallowglass, Lord High Warlock." They shuddered at the sound of the title, and made the Sign of the Cross. Rod's mouth tightened with chagrin. "The only part of that which means anything to them is the word

`warlock,' isn't it? I assure you, though, the term is being used wrongly-they call us witches and warlocks, but we're really only espers, people who were born with strange gifts of the mind. I'm just as much a Christian as you are, though probably more of a sinner."

Hester looked up-almost in indignation, Rod thought. "Nay," she said. "We know of lords and kings, though our priests have told us they are all evil."

"Oh, as far as your bishop is concerned, I'm very evil, because I've stolen away three of his parishioners. What's worse, I just may take those people to the Abbot of the Monastery of St. Vidicon, and ask them to tell him all about their village and their priests."

Magnus looked up in alarm, and Neil frowned. "Why is that worse?" But Roble smiled. "Why lad, if the true churchmen hear of our bishop and what he hath done, they'll unfrock him and tell him he is a bishop no longer."

"Nor even a priest," Rod agreed, "since he hasn't been trained in the real Church's doctrine. They might admit him to the seminary, though-and in the meantime, they'll send some real priests to teach your fellow villagers."

"'Twould serve them as they should be served!" Hester cried, eyes alight with vindictive glee, and Roble nodded, eyes glowing. "'Twould be just."

"Mayhap to the bishop, but not to the people." Magnus frowned down at Rod. "How is this, my father?

What right hast thou to meddle in their ways?"

Rod shrugged. "It was just a thought-and we'll have to discuss it more fully, son. At least, we do agree that anyone who wants to get out of that village, should be allowed to." He turned back to the peasants.

"Are there any other malcontents in your village-any other people who don't like the way the priests run things, and want to get out?"

Roble shook his head, and Hester said, "Nay. There were others, but they have been scourged into seeing the error of their ways, or-" She caught herself just in time.

"Or have taken their own lives," Roble said, his face bleak. "Do not stint the truth, lass. There were two others, milords."

Magnus frowned. "But the others, who wished to escape . . ."

"They have pious spouses now, and children. They will not wish to leave them; they are bound to the grinding of their souls for twenty years and more."

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Magnus winced. Rod knew the cause, and turned to change the subject quickly. "And that," he said to Magnus, "is why everybody who's left in the village likes that form of government." Magnus looked startled-that wasn't what he'd been thinking about. Then he frowned in thought. Rod turned to the fugitives. "We're probably safe for the night here, so you might as well bed down. My son and I will keep watch."

"I thank thee, milord," Roble said slowly. "I cannot thank thee enough."

"Just have a happier life than you have already-and don't think it's going to be easy. You'll still have to work for a living, and you'll probably find the lord of your manor to be just as overbearing as the bishop."

"But from a lord one might expect it!" Neil burst out. "They are no holier than we; they are not
supposed
to be more perfect!"

"I suppose that makes it easier to bear," Rod admitted, "though I think my wife might give you an argument about what's expected of a nobleman. Anyway, good night, folks." It took a little more talking and soothing to get them settled, and Hester pointedly slept on the other side of Roble, rather than right next to Neil-but she gave the lad a few looks that made it clear it was more by duty than by desire. The whole pantomime even evoked a tired smile from the bereaved father, who made a few reassuring noises of his own, and finally got them settled down and breathing evenly. Privately, Rod thought that the byplay between the young folk must have given Roble a pang of grief, reminding him of his own Ranulf and the joy the lad had never had-but if his tears flowed in the moonlight, surely there was no one to see but himself.

Magnus drew Rod aside over a very small, well-shielded watch fire. "And now, assuredly, thou wilt lecture me over the sinfulness of a theocracy."

"No, really-I had in mind discussing the perils of do-ityourself religion." Magnus frowned, not understanding.

"That's one way of looking at a cult," Rod explained. "Somebody dreams up a new religion, or a new version of an old one, which exactly meets his own taste and whim-and, even if he's sincere, Truth is apt to get lost in the process."

Magnus nodded. "More to the point, given time he will remold his religion to assure his own power and wealth."

"Yes-and if he's mentally unstable, he'll lead all his people into lunacy."

"Say rather, delusion," Magnus offered, "yet those delusions he will present them will be most attractive ones, so that many will wish to join him-and be subject to him." He frowned. "Dust thou truly think the first of these spurious bishops, Eleazar, was so cynical as to pretend to a lie, in telling his folk the Abbot had elevated him to an episcopal see?"

"No, now that you mention it." Rod frowned. "He probably managed to justify it to himself-other people found it easy to believe his lies, but that made him feel guilty, so he start believing them, himself."
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"And thus is delusion born." Magnus nodded. "Still, for those who are content, and even happy, to live in such a community, who are we to tell them nay?"

"The ones who are supposed to be their leaders," Rod countered. "We're supposed to protect the ones who aren't happy under that system."

"And assure them the right to leave? Aye, that we should-but if that right is given, and those who dislike the theocracy are filtered out without hurt, we would be wrong to attempt to change it." Rod heaved a sigh. "I'm afraid that's something we'll never agree on, son. I suppose I'm a bit of a fanatic, myself-I can't rest easy knowing there's a government in power that I can see only as being false, exploitative, and morally wrong."

Magnus started to contradict his father, then caught himself and forced a smile. "'Tis even as thou hast said-we will never agree."

"That's what I thought," Rod said, with a sardonic smile. "Well, if we're going to be able to protect the rights of these people tomorrow, son, we'd better get some sleep tonight. You want to take first watch, or shall I?"

9

They saw the peasants to the edge of the forest. When they could see the cleared land through the trees, Rod stopped. "You're safe now. You'll be out of the forest in another ten minutes." He reached into his purse and came out with a handful of silver coins. Distributing them, he said, "Use these wisely, and they'll get you a fresh start. Good luck."

"Good fortune to you all," Magnus said, and without waiting for an answer, turned and strode away, back into the forest. Rod looked up after him, taken aback, then turned to finish the goodbyes before he hurried after his son. Fess paced along behind him, ever faithful-but ever tactful, too. Father and son needed to talk in private, if at all.

Rod caught up with Magnus and panted, "A little abrupt, wasn't that?"

"They had had all they needed of us, my father," Magnus said, his face grim, "and more than they may have deserved." Rod guessed that Hester had taken a stronger hold on the young man's fancy than he had let show.

"If thou art so concerned for them," Magnus went on, "wherefore dost thou not accompany them to the nearest village, and see them set up in their new lives?"

Rod glanced back over his shoulder. "I should, I suppose-and I should take them to the Abbot, for that matter. But I find I'm not ready to come out of the trees yet."

"Nor am I," Magnus said shortly. "In truth, I am not ready for human converse, either. If thou wilt excuse me, my father, I must needs walk alone awhile." And he increased his pace, swinging off through the trees.

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Rod slowed to a halt, watching after his son. "Touchy, touchy," he murmured, but wondering if it should perhaps have been "Touche, touche." He was being a bit of a nosy parent, he supposed-and the kid was a grown man now, and able to take care of himself.

All but his heart ...

"Shall we follow him, Rod?"

Rod almost jumped out of his skin, then looked up to see the great black horse coming up beside him.

"Follow? Of course not! It's just that, coincidentally, I happen to be going in the same direction. Think we can find a path, Fess?"

Disgusted with himself and the rest of the human race, Magnus paced through the trees, hoping to tire himself enough to be rid of the restless energy that seemed to push him onward. He did not notice that the leaves had begun to fall, or that occasional glimpses of sky showed leaden. He paced forward, not particularly caring where he was going, reviewing his most recent disasters. The witch of the tower, who had sought to entrap him by lust pure and simple; the Queen of Elfland, who had sought to bind him to her service by promises never stated nor meant to be kept (he wondered about the reality of that episode); Hester, a shallow and blatant flirt who sought to attract him just long enough to use him as her means of escape....

"A rag, a bone!"

Magnus looked up, startled, apprehension coiling through him.

He came weaving his way between the trees, crying out, "A rag, a bone! Aught thou dost not wish, I'll have! A rag, a bone!" He stopped next to Magnus, grinning up at him, showing a broken tooth. "Good day, young master! Hast aught for which thou hast no use?"

It was the ragpicker, of course.

"Not a whit," Magnus said, through stiff lips.

"Eh, now! Come! Thou hast a weakness for the ladies, hast thou not? Thou hast no use for it-it hath brought thee naught but misery! Give it over, young master, give it over to me! Lose thine Achilles'

heel-though 'tis scarcely thy heel, is't now? Lose it to me, and gain invulnerability for thine heart!" Magnus was shocked to realize that he was sorely tempted. The notion of emotional invulnerability had become very appealing.

"Thrice before have I exhorted thee," the ragpicker reminded. "Thrice hast thou refused me-and gained sore pain as the price of thy stubborness."

"Thou wilt exact a greater price yet," Magnus ground out, though he no longer believed it. Indeed, the ragpicker was shaking his head. "There is no price but the armor itself, young wizard. Come!

Wilt thou not accept another's magic? Or must thou be hurted yet again, and again once more?" For a moment, Magnus almost gave in, for something within him clamored for that imperviousness with an intensity that left him shaken. Perhaps for that reason he steeled himself against the pull and forced out the words. "Away with thee! Avaunt! And trouble me never again!"
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The ragpicker sighed. "Ah, the suspicious nature of this younger generation. Well enough, lad, even as thou wiltyet I'll come again, when thou shalt need what I offer. Farewell!" He turned away, sauntering back into the forest and calling out, "A rag, a bone!"